Where Something Unattainable Lies
by CrimsonHaired
Summary: This is just a drabble about Neville Longbottom, though it's focus is primarily on Alice Longbottom in a little scene at St. Mungo's.


Dear Mom and Dad,  
  
Today I got accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I know the doctors say you can't remember anything, but I like to imagine you remember what Hogwarts was like. Gram says that you were both at the top of your classes, and that you played Quidditch, Dad. I think she said you were a chaser. Quidditch doesn't really seem to be the sport for me. I'm more of a Wizard's Chess sort of guy, even though I'm not clever with strategies and lose to Great Uncle Algie all the time. Gram isn't too keen on letting me fly either. You see, I'm not particularly safe on the ground, much less some fifty feet in the air on a broomstick. Not to mention I'm not built nearly so well as you were at this age. Gram says I resemble Mom more and more every day, and that the only things I've got of Dad's are his ears (that never listened) and appetite (that was never satisfied). Anyway, I'm at least looking forward to watching the competition between houses when I'm there.  
Speaking of houses! Gram told me that you were in Ravenclaw, Mom, and that Dad was in Gryffindor. I bet I'll end up in Hufflepuff. I don't think I'm clever enough to be in Ravenclaw because they're really all wits and brains, but it doesn't seem likely that I'll make it into Gryffindor because I'm not really the courageous type. I hope that isn't disappointing you two, but Hufflepuff seems like a pretty decent house to me. It sounds better than Slytherin. The best thing about Hufflepuffs, I think, is that they're loyal. I don't think I'd mind being called loyal, because that describes me better than brave or clever or sly. What do you guys think? Gram says that anything is better than no house at all. I'm not sure that anyone told you, but the family thought that I was a squib for a while. Everyone was worried that I wasn't magical enough to get into Hogwarts, even after the time Great Uncle Algie dropped me out of that window and I bounced into the street.  
Gram says we'll go shopping for supplies next weekend. I'll be getting my first wand! I'm really excited about that, but it kind of makes me nervous too, because I'm deathly afraid that I'll catch something on fire or blow something up without meaning too. We need other things too. I'm not so worried about the standard robes or the pointed hat, but we need 'one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar),' which makes me wonder what exactly we'll be brewing in potions. Students are allowed to bring 'an owl OR a cat OR a toad', but Gram isn't too keen on getting me a pet. No worries though, because Great Uncle Algie is going to arrange to get me something behind Gram's back. Do either of you have any suggestions for a name? Oh, and dad, the letter says that 'parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks', so I guess I'm going to stay firmly planted on the ground for a while.  
I hate to have to wrap this up so soon, but it's nearly time for dinner and we're all eating out to celebrate. I think we're going to go to a new place in town, so I promise to tell you both what the food's like. Hope both of you are doing well. Wish you were here.  
Much Love as Always, Your Son,  
Neville  
  
"Well Mrs. Longbottom, that certainly was a nice letter from your son, wasn't it?" A pretty, young witch in lime green robes smiled cheerily at Alice Longbottom, holding Neville's letter in her lap. Another witch in lime, though this one was older and squatter, wheeled a cart to Alice's bedside, shaking her head and clucking her tongue.  
  
"It's a shame dear, a darn shame. You know she can't understand a thing you're saying."  
  
"Oh, I know..." The young witch trailed, eyeing Alice warily. She began timidly, "I just like to think... that, well, maybe her case isn't all so hopeless. Her poor little boy, his letters, always so optimistic..."  
  
The squat witch sighed and attempted to fluff Alice's pillows. Alice made no response, but continued to chew on a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Her mouth moved like a cow's mouth working on cud. Her eyes, too large on her gaunt face, were vacant and expressionless. They stared past either of the nurses and seemed to be fixated on something suspended on the ceiling though nothing was there.  
  
"Look at her," The squat nurse said, tucking a piece of Alice's limp gray hair behind her ear. "She's been here for a decade. Shown minimal improvement. They've tried cures, but nothing helps." The young witch appeared quite disturbed but the squat witch continued, this time with a bitter twang in her voice. "It's more than hopeless. I suppose you're just not used to it because you've only just started, but I was here when the Longbottoms arrived. This is Ward 49, sweetie, it's the residential ward. And look at the poor love, she's dependent on us but she doesn't even recognize our faces. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" The squat witch smiled at Alice, who remained unresponsive. "You see? She's a brick."  
  
"Oh Martha, do you mean that... that she can't even recognize her own son when he comes to visit?" The young witch's mouth trembled as she spoke.  
  
Martha let out a short, bark-like laugh. "Lisa, she can't even recognize us and we see her every day. That boy of hers, and his grandmother, they visit once a month – twice if she's lucky. There's no way she can recognize him. It's just not possible."  
  
Lisa let her hands fall into her lap and she smoothed out the letter. "Poor Neville," She sighed, looking thoroughly depressed, as though being in the ward was something worse than death. Neither nurse noticed that, at the mention of Neville's name, Alice slowly lifted her head and her eyes came into something near focus, though they remained glazed and hid as always, something unattainable inside of them. Alice reached into her housecoat pocket and retrieved a gum wrapper with shaky, uncertain fingers. Wordlessly, Alice nudged the wrapper towards Lisa, as though prompting her to say Neville's name again. Lisa glanced up, startled out of a reverie. She took the wrapper and crumpled it in her hand, regarding it as trash. "Here," Lisa handed the wrapper to Martha, "It looks like she's ready for her bath now."  
  
Authors Note: I hope this wasn't too horrid as I'm out of practice, but this idea came out some way or another. Review if you'd like because I'd love to hear what you think. 


End file.
